


Can I call you daddy?

by Mellilla_Williams



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Consent, Daddy Issues, Daddy Kink, F/M, John Watson is cute, Kissing, consent is important
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-28
Updated: 2020-08-28
Packaged: 2021-03-06 22:40:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,183
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26156671
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mellilla_Williams/pseuds/Mellilla_Williams
Summary: John 's girlfriend (Y/N) calls him daddy, he lets her because he's sweet. One day he realizes he sort of likes it too.
Relationships: John Watson/Reader, John Watson/You
Comments: 3
Kudos: 38





	Can I call you daddy?

Sherlock had warned him. Of course he had. The _cocky bastard_ , acting all high and mighty like he was an omniscient god. John had chosen to ignore it all in hopes Sherlock was just making assumptions based on stereotypes. 

Still, _still_ , John had been surprised when you’d admitted him your secret. You wanted to call him daddy. Truthfully, he didn’t get it. What exactly was the appeal? He was old, you were young. Did you really need to remind him of it?

How did the whole thing even come about? Well, you’d been watching a series where a girl called her boyfriend daddy and that had sparked a conversation, during which you’d told him.

_“Classic case of daddy issues, she’s just looking for a father figure, John”,_ had been Sherlock’s exact words when he’d met you for the first time. Thank god Sherlock hadn't spoken those words at your face! John had rolled his eyes. Just because someone younger wanted to date him, didn’t mean there was something funky going on.

Should’ve known better than believe in his own naivete. If he’d learnt one thing from putting up with his flatmate for all these years, it was that Sherlock was always right. Infuriating, really.

Alas, you’d told John you sort of liked the whole daddy thing. And you’d asked if it was alright with him if you tried it. Eager to please as ever, he’d pushed his own prejudgements and negative thoughts away and given you the green light.

“Thank you, daddy”, you’d said instantly, which had awoken a glee in your eyes he hadn’t seen before. Not even when he’d taken you to the carnival, which you’d told him was the best date you’d ever been on.

Despite how utterly ancient and dirty it made him feel, he’d instantly fallen in love with what using the word did to you and what it meant in terms of him. You’d climbed on his lap, leg on each side of him causing his breath to get stuck in his throat when you’d thrown yourself flush against him and allowed him to map out your sides with his palms.

“It means a lot, John. I know it’s uncommon”, you’d said after a while.

“it’s okay, princess”, John had said. You’d made out after that. A lot. 

After a few weeks of you calling him that sometimes, always in private, he’d rather gotten used to it. It wasn’t much different to the norm. It was fine. Sherlock was the only one who knew – of course he did – but wasn’t invested enough in the affairs of common folk to much care. What mattered to him was that John was happy, not that he’d ever admit such human weakness as caring for a friend’s happiness. Sherlock was of course above that. 

So yes, it was all fine and dandy. Well, until you called John daddy in a restaurant. And then the staff treated you like a father and a daughter. Which fucked with John’s head. You’d laughed it off, he’d tried too. He vowed to never go back to that place again. The food wasn’t that great either. 

What really bothered him actually, was the age gap. You two really must look like, well, anything _but_ a couple to the outside world. He was aware he was not the most handsome guy, he was short, not very muscle-y at all, a bit soft around the edges. He didn’t have high, sharp cheekbones or a great mop of hair on his head. He was greying. Thank _heavens_ he was not losing his hair!

“Daddy, you okay?”, You asked on the way home. He snapped at you. You looked visibly upset but followed him to Baker Street anyway. And now he felt bad. It wasn’t your fault he was insecure. You plopped on the couch and took out your phone, ignoring him. John made tea. Earl Grey, milk and honey; just how you liked it. He put the cups down on the sofa table.

“I’m sorry love. I didn’t mean to snap at you like that-“

“I didn’t mean to call you that in public. I’m sorry I embarrassed you”, you told him. He pulled you in a soft, gentle hug and cradled your head into his chest, petting your hair.

“You didn’t do anything wrong”

“Yes, I did! I’m gonna stop calling you that, it’s weird anyway-“

“No!”, Even John himself was surprised by his defensiveness. He’d grown to like the way the word rolled off your tongue. It made him feel more important. It made him feel like he had the right to be a little possessive, a little extra protective. It made him feel in control and he loved it. Loved all of it.

“Please, don’t stop calling me daddy, princess”, he repeated.

“You sure?”, You asked and tilted your head up to see his face. He looked open and honest and in his eyes was a sort of fragility. 

“Yes. Earlier I- I got insecure. About the age gap”, he was visibly struggling with opening up. Men his age had been socialized to not show weakness. To show you was proof he trusted you fully.

“I’m not going anywhere”, you assured.

“Better not, princess.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it, daddy”.

With that, John kissed you. He slipped his fingers in your hair and ever so slightly pulled on it. He’d never been particularly rough but had noticed you loved it when he tugged on your hair. It had the desired result; your knees buckled, and he was sure to pull you closer to him so you wouldn’t lose your balance.

John’s mouth was pressed to your neck next. He tried not to leave marks as he mapped the skin with his tongue and suckled on a few spots. 

“Harder, daddy”, you whined. He delivered. You found yourself being lowered to the couch and John climbing on top of you. Your body knew what it wanted; you spread your legs for him, and his body slipped between your legs. His arousal pressed against you teasingly. You let out a sigh.

“You want this, princess?” He asked. You mumbled something resembling a yes. He rolled his hips. 

John was super particular about consent due to your age gap. He knew there was an automatic power imbalance because of it and wanted to get your approval for every new way he touched you. It was cute. You appreciated it. Besides the way he handled asking for consent bordered on dirty talk which was incredibly arousing.

“You make me feel so good”, you muttered before pulling him into a kiss. You ran your fingers through his soft hair. He was warm, passionate and loving. You were wanting, eager and happy to receive his touch. It felt like a dream. He made love to you like you were the most precious thing to ever exist. And to him, you were. You were his princess and he revelled in the fact that he’d been the only man to ever be allowed to touch you like that. And you loved every second of it.


End file.
